


Sweetbreads

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Copious Cockles [19]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Almost Kiss, Awkwardness, Bisexuality, Crushes, F/M, First Dates, Food Issues, Honcon 2017, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Multi, POV Jensen, Polyamory, Secret Crush, Staring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: Thanks to the convention in Hawaii, we now know that one of Jensen and Misha's first dates involved some questionable menu choices and a whole lot of love.





	Sweetbreads

* * *

* * *

 

 

“Nope.” He yanks off the third scarf in a row and chucks it to the floor. “Nope, nope, nope.” None of them look right; which is ridiculous because he’s just wearing his grey jeans and a t-shirt. _Anything_ can match with that!

He picks up a forth option—something with dark grey and black stripes, accented with a bit of fringe and begins to wrap it around his neck when his cell phone rings. Jensen sighs, pulling away the new scarf as he frees his phone from his pocket. “Yeah?” he grunts into the receiver, not even looking to see who’s calling first.

“Well, hello to you too, babe” Danneel chuckles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s working.”

“Uh oh—outfit troubles?” She knows him too well.

Jensen grunts again as he looks at the mess of clothes strewn across his bed.

“What pants are you wearing?”

“Grey jeans.”

“Black t-shirt?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it cold out?”

“A little—not bad.”

“Then just put on your leather jacket and call it good. You look super hot in that.”

“No scarf?”

“No scarf.”

He lets out a long breath and glares down at the pile of wraps and scarves one last time before finally deciding to listen to his girlfriend. “Yeah … yeah, okay. Fine.”

Danneel hums approvingly. “Why are you so nervous about this dinner, anyway? I thought you were still on the fence about the new guy.”

The corner of Jensen’s mouth quirks up as he heads to his closet to pull out his leather jacket. “Uh—not really. Not anymore. He’s funny.”

It takes Danneel a moment to respond, but when she does—it’s accompanied with a laugh. “That doesn’t explain why you’re nervous.”

“I’m _not_ nervous” Jensen counters, not believing himself for a second.

Now, Danneel almost snorts. “Yeah, _okay._ ”

“What? I’m not!” He’s not sure why he’s trying so hard to convince her.

“You only get crazy about your outfits when you’re nervous, babe. Like when you had to give that speech that one time … or when you were first meeting my dad.”

“I wanted to make a good impression!” Jensen explains.

“ _Exactly!_ So … I’m just curious as to why you’re doing the same thing _now_? Why are you so worried about making a good impression with a guy you once described as ‘really weird’?”

Jensen rubs the leather of his jacket sleeve between his fingers, but he still hasn’t taken it out of the closet. “I … I dunno.”

“ _Jensen_?”

“He’s just … he’s intimidating, okay?” Jensen always breaks so easily when Danneel corners him. “He’s really witty—like, super fast-witty. And he’s funny, but really nice too. I dunno! I feel  …”

“Insecure?”

“Maybe, I dunno.”

Danneel hums and Jensen closes his eyes—plopping his forehead against the frame of his closet. “Babe, you sound like a girl with a crush.”

Jensen winces at that. “I know. I sound idiotic.”

“You sound cute.”

“That’s not any better!” he murmurs, finally opening his eyes again and yanking his jacket off the hanger, eventually shrugging it on.

After another beat, his girlfriend’s tone shifts slightly—to something more serious and it makes Jensen turn and sit on the end of the bed, awaiting the inevitable scolding. “ _Jensen_ … babe … is it possible that you _do_ have a bit of a crush going on here?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and stares pleadingly up at the ceiling, because he _knew_ this conversation would eventually end up like this, somewhere in his gut— _he knew_. “Danni, c’mon …”

“Don’t _c’mon_ me! You and I are in this for the long haul, so I need you to be honest with me. I’ve known that you’re also interested in men since _way_ before we got together. You never made that a secret with me, so be honest. Is this Misha guy attractive to you?”

He groans, because this is something he has refrained from thinking about for the last two months—ever since he first stood across from Misha on set.

“Jensen?”

“ _Yeah_ —okay? Maybe … _a bit._ He’s not, _not_ attractive. It’s … I dunno. It’s confusing, and I turn into a giggling idiot whenever he’s around and … _agh!_ ” He falls backwards onto the bed and smacks himself in the face with his hand. “I just … I’m sorry. Are you mad? I’m not … I won’t … _ya know… cheat_.”

Another soft, little giggle jingles through the phone and it instantly puts him at ease. “Babe, _no_ —okay? No, I’m not mad. I think it’s adorable, actually. You have a crush!”

Jensen winces again. “I still feel like an idiot.”

“Well, you _are_ an idiot—but a cute idiot. You’re _my_ idiot. And now you might be _Misha’s_ idiot too.” Danneel is cracking herself up now and it makes Jensen roll his eyes. “There’s enough idiot to go around!”

“Gee—thanks, sugar” Jensen drones, sitting himself up once more. “And on _that_ note …”

“Okay, okay … sorry!” Danneel cackles, and Jensen smiles in spite of himself. “Look—in all seriousness though, don’t hold yourself back, okay? I want you to feel free to— _well_ , feel how you want to feel. If you have a crush on this guy, then let yourself crush. Have fun. Life is too short to make yourself feel bad about shit.”

That makes Jensen’s face scrunch together, questions and confusion twisting through every muscle in his head. “Um … what are you saying? You _want_ me to cheat?”

Danneel busts up laughing yet again. “Okay—first of all, _you_ may have a crush but there’s no telling how this guy feels about _you_ … or if he is even into other men, so don’t get so cocky, Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen huffs, because that’s _not_ what he meant at all.

“And secondly—I said it before and I meant it: we’re in this for the long haul, and I’m not so naive to think that you will only ever have eyes for me. We work in an industry where we’re surrounded by gorgeous, amazing people all the time; and sometimes, we’re paid to play ‘house’ with them—and _sometimes_ , those lines between _acting_ and _reality_ get blurred _. I_ know that and _you_ know that … because that’s what happened with us, right?”

“Yeah, but—I’m not playing this guy’s boyfriend or anything!”

“Maybe not, but you are playing a person of significance in his life and vice versa. So just, _go_ with whatever feels right, is all I’m saying.”

“But …”

“But nothing” Danneel is sounding frustrated now. “I’m not saying go _try_ to get in his pants; but I don’t want you feeling like you’re _not allowed_ to explore your emotions just because we’re in a serious relationship. I’m not threatened, and you get so in your own head sometimes, that I’m afraid you could screw up what might be a great friendship because of it. Just be you. Be happy. Let yourself be an idiot.”

“He’s married” Jensen blurts out suddenly, as if the conversation had warranted that extra bit of information.

“Um, okay?” Danneel chuckles again. “Like I said before, this guy might not be into you at all—so, my point is, why worry about your little crush? Just go with the flow, babe. Be yourself and let him be himself too—and try to find a common ground with him, whatever that may be. Don’t let your relationship with me or your attraction to him, mess things up.”

Jensen hangs his head but nods all the same. “Yeah—fine. Okay, you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“I just … I just don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“Well, I doubt this guy will think you’re a fool if your belt doesn’t perfectly match your shoes.”

Jensen shoots upright like a rocket. “Shit—I hadn’t thought about my shoes yet!”

“Jensen—just put on the damn jacket and go! You’re going to be late.”

 

He doesn’t tell his girlfriend, but he tries on one more scarf before he leaves.

***

“Have you ever been here before?”

Jensen looks around the restaurant and bar—dimmed, neon lights line the ceiling, giving an eerie glow to Misha’s face. “Uh … no. Can’t say that I have.”

“Neither have I” Misha laughs—and his head tilts back, making his eyes catch a bit of blue light and they instantly brighten the room.

Jensen nervously laughs too. “So, why did you pick this place then?”

Misha shrugs. “Don’t know. I just scrolled through a bunch of options and settled on this one. I guess I liked the name.”

Jensen hadn’t even paid attention to the name of the restaurant. All he had focused on since he met Misha out front, was the way the guy’s grey sweater hugged so nicely to his arms. And now, Jensen is staring at Misha’s arms again. He clears his throat and looks around. “So—what do they serve here?”

Misha shrugs for a second time. “My guess is _food_.”

That makes Jensen let out a barking laugh, and it elicits some surprised stares from the people seated nearby. He blushes and raises his hand in apology.

“Your table is ready—please follow me.”

A short hostess pops out of nowhere to lead them to their table, and Jensen blushes even harder now as he follows close on Misha’s heels, feeling like everyone in the restaurant is watching him.

“Here we are” the hostess says, stopping at a small booth near the back of the place. “Your server will be right with you” she continues, handing both Misha and him some menus as they take their seats.

“Thank you very much” Misha says too her—sounding so solid and genuine, so confident and poised … everything that Jensen _isn’t_ right now.

The woman smiles and then turns around, walking away and leaving the two men to stare across this very small table at one another. Once again, Misha doesn’t seem fazed at all—but Jensen feels like they’ve just been shoved into the same shoebox, and he’s suddenly extremely claustrophobic.

“So …” he begins, picking up the menu and putting it in front of his face—trying to create a barrier between himself and those neon blue eyes. “What are _you_ gonna get?”

“Probably some wine to start off with” Misha says, and Jensen peeks over his menu at him.

“You drink wine?”

Misha cocks his head to the left and then nods slowly. “Um, _yes_. Is that odd?”

Jensen supposes that his inquiry might’ve made it sound that way, and he blushes for a third time. “Uh—no, no, not at all. I don’t know why—uh … I just didn’t peg you as a wine drinker.”

“Do I look like more of a brewski kind of guy?” Misha laughs, squaring his jaw and puffing up his chest as he says it.

Jensen laughs far too loud again, but shakes his head—happy that he’s at least blocked from most of the prying eyes while in their booth. “No … you look more like an occasional scotch kind of guy. You mostly drink tea when you’re on set, so I just didn’t think you drank much at all.”

The clarification makes Misha relax into the back of his seat, softening his shoulders some as he glances down at the still closed menu. “You’re right—I don’t drink often, but when I get going, I just _go_. Wine, scotch, beer … mouthwash. It doesn’t matter.”

“Mouthwash?” Jensen begins to wheeze, covering his face with the back of his hand because as usual, Misha is surprising him.

“Hey! Alcohol is alcohol, and I partied _hard_ in high school, plus I was getting pretty hot and heavy with Vicki at the time, so being fun-drunk _and_ having minty fresh breath was a win win in my book.”

Jensen’s laughs taper some as he takes in everything that’s been said. “Vicki … that’s your wife, isn’t it? You’ve been together since high school?”

“Eighth grade, actually” Misha nods.

“Wow” Jensen says, feeling his crush— _crush_ his soul a bit.

“You have a girlfriend, right?” Misha asks a moment later, picking up his menu and opening it nonchalantly.

Jensen clears his throat. “Yeah. Danneel. We were friends for a while and then we hooked up after being in a movie together.”

“Ten Inch Hero, right?”

Jensen’s head shoots up and he gawks at the man across from him. “You’ve seen it?”

Now it’s Misha’s turn to blush. “ _Yeah_ —I did some research on you guys once the network said they’d keep me around for a bit. I watched Ten Inch Hero, House of Wax—”

“ _Oh god!_ I’m sorry! That must’ve been awful for you. I’ll make sure to have Jared refund your money for that one.”

Misha starts to chuckle and eventually puts his menu back down. “Don’t worry about it. I borrowed the DVD from a friend. Didn’t cost me a cent!”

“Thank the lord!” Jensen snickers, quieting a second later because their server shows up at the end of the table.

“Good evening, gentleman. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

Misha jumps in before Jensen can even think of what to say. “Yes, we’ll take a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc—two glasses, as well as two glasses of sparkling water, please.”

“Very good, sir” The waitress says, nodding at Misha with a smile. “And do you both need another moment, or are you ready to order as well?”

Jensen opens his mouth again—wanting to say they need some more time, because even though he’s been looking at the menu for the last five minutes, he hasn’t actually read any of the items; but just as he stares down at the list of food, it’s being pulled out of his hands. He snaps his gaze back up, seeing Misha’s grinning face as he takes Jensen’s menu and places it on top of his own, eventually handing both booklets back to the waitress.

“Yes, we’ll take the three least ordered items on the menu.”

The waitress’s smile falters—but only for a moment, and then she places the menus under her arm and nods. “Very good, sir. I’ll go inform the chef.”

“Thank you very much” Misha says, and then both he and Jensen watch as the young woman scurries off into the kitchen.

“Uh …” Jensen begins, eyes darting from the kitchen door to Misha and then back to the door again. “So … _what_ did you just order for us?”

Misha shrugs. “Not a clue, but we’ll find out soon enough.”

“But …”

“You’re not super adventurous, are you?” Misha cuts in, obviously noting the concern on Jensen’s face—at least, he _hopes_ it comes off as concern and not pure, unadulterated terror.

He gulps down the lump in his throat and nervously shakes his head. “No—no not really.”

“We can order something else if you want” Misha offers, already lifting his hand to flag down another server; but just as he does—Danneel’s disapproving glare flashes across Jensen’s mind.

“No! No … it’s uh, it’s fine. I can step out of my comfort zone a bit. Besides, how bad can it be?”

***

Jensen stares down at the three plates now sitting between them. One dish looks a bit like flubbery honeycomb, covered in a yellowish sauce. Another looks almost like orange chicken—but it doesn’t smell like it at all; and the last plate has what appears to be—and turns out to be, two small animal brains, set atop a couple pieces of kale. “Those are brains” Jesnen says flatly, ducking down some to get a closer look.

“Yes, indeed they are” Misha chuckles, poking at one of the brains with his fork.

“And that is ….?” Jensen asks, gesturing towards the plate in the middle.

“Sweetbreads. Fried lamb glands.”

Jensen bites his tongue a moment. “And … _that one?_ The honeycomb thing.”

Misha glances over at the last dish, a wicked smile now dancing across his lips. “That one is tripe. Cow stomach.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Uh …” Jensen coughs and then washes down the bile billowing up his throat with a half glass of wine.

“We can still order something else, Jensen” Misha chuckles.

“Nope! No … we’re being adventurous. We’re stepping out of our boxes and trying something new.”

“Well—in all fairness, _I’ve_ had these things before. Not a huge fan of the tripe, but the other two aren’t bad.”

Jensen nods nervously, not really listening to what Misha is saying because he could’ve sworn he just saw one of the brains move.

“So …” Misha continues, leaning forward to try and catch Jensen’s eye, “shall we dig in?”

“Yup. Definitely” Jensen chirps, hoping his voice didn’t crack too badly as he said it.  He then watches in subdued horror as Misha lifts his knife and fork to skewer one of the brains and plop it onto Jensen’s plate. And then, he serves himself the other brain, licking the tip of his fork once he’s done.

It’s rather dividing—the whole scene, because half of his senses are screaming with the new pungent sights and smells that are currently swirling all around him; but the other half are curiously _wanting_ as the deep rumble of Misha’s laugh, marries pleasantly with how good the man looks as he takes that very first bite.

“Mmm … it's salty” Misha mumbles, quickly moving in for another taste. “Go ahead, try it.”

Jensen forces a smile before looking warily at the so-called meal in front of him. “Yeah … okay.” He picks up his knife and fork, wanting to close his eyes as he cuts into it.

It’s funny—with all the fake organs and weird ass things he’s had to do and handle on the show, he thought he’d be more used to this, but the actual feeling of cutting into an _actual_ brain—well, it’s completely unnerving; like cutting into playdoh that had been rolled around in grit. He’s trying not to gag, and he’s trying not to over think it.

“Would you rather start off with the sweetbreads?”

Jensen practically chucks his utensils back onto his plate. “ _Yeah_ —that sounds better.” Even though he knows that the name is misleading, at least the dish doesn’t _look_ like what it actually is. It looks like bits of glazed, fried chicken; and that’s what he’ll convince himself he’s eating once it’s in his mouth.

Misha grins and then nods, reaching over to grab the serving spoon from the main dish to scoop some of the sweetbreads onto Jensen’s plate. The pieces roll up beside the brain and Jensen immediately scoots them away with his fork.

“I don’t mind those. The texture is surprising, kinda soft and creamy. Just be ready” Misha explains, but Jensen doesn’t have the heart to tell him that his explanation just made it _worse_.

“Are they sweet?” Jensen asks, stabbing one of the nugget-like bites with his fork. He lifts it up to look at it more closely.

“No, not at all” Misha laughs.

“Then why the hell do they call them sweetbreads?”

“To get mooks like _you_ to try them, I guess.”

Jesnen lowers his fork once more as he lets out another, booming belly laugh. “Mooks?” he asks, wiping a happy tear from his eye. “Man … you’re weird!”

Misha’s resulting smile is soft, _pleased_ —like he’s just proud he can make Jensen lose it like this.

With one more chuckle—feeling a bit more relaxed now than he did a moment ago, Jensen pops the bite into his mouth, figuring it’s now or never.

Misha’s face sobers as he watches Jesnen chew. “So … what do you think?”

He was right—it’s not sweet, and it’s not chewy like it looks. It almost melts in his mouth and the flavor coats his tongue from end to end; but, he can’t say that it’s necessarily a _bad_ flavor. It’s just … different. Jensen swallows and then takes a deep breath, feeling a little surge of glee for actually _doing_ it. “I mean—ya know, it’s not too bad, actually.”

The other man’s face bursts with a grin. “Ya see? I told you, that one is pretty good!”

Jensen chuckles and then stabs another sweetbread with his fork. “Well, it’s no steak with sautéed mushrooms, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

“Is that what you were hoping to get? Steak with sautéed mushroom?” Misha asks, sounding genuinely curious, and it makes Jensen feel special.

“Uh … no. That’s just, um – that was the first meal Danneel ever made for me. She’s an awesome cook, and that steak tasted _amazing._ So afterwards I told her that no other meal could live up to it. It’s kinda become a running joke with us now.”

Misha smiles, making little lines crease the corners of his eyes. “That’s sweet. You two sound like you’re very happy.”

Jensen smiles too. “Yeah. We are. She’s the best.”

“My old girlfriend was an amazing cook too. She would make us these super extravagant meals all the time—and she was always having us try new things. That’s how I ended up trying all of this.” Misha says, splaying out his hand at the plates on the table.

Jensen nods, taking his next bite and chewing for a few seconds before he has a chance to really mull over what Misha is saying. “Wait …” he mumbles, mouth still full of creamy glands. “I thought you said you’d been with your wife since eighth grade.”

Misha looks confused at first, and then his face morphs into something akin to fear. “Oh—uh, _yes_. That’s true.”

Jensen squints at him. “Did you two split up for a while or something?”

Misha swallows thickly. “No … _nope_.” He then looks down at his food and focuses intensely on cutting the brain into several small pieces.

Jensen watches him fidget and cut, and then all at once—he realizes that Misha just admitted something he hadn’t planned on, and that makes Jensen’s stomach turn sourly around the strange food now settling inside it. “Did … did you cheat on her?”

Misha’s head shoots up immediately, shock and anger bolting through his eyes. “What? No!”

The other man’s tone makes Jensen tilt back in his seat. “Okay—okay, _sorry_ , but you just said—” and then he pauses, suddenly remembering _something else_ that Misha had said . “Wait, you kept saying ‘us’ … that your girlfriend served ‘us’.”

Misha sighs and then sets down his knife and fork, looking at his lap as he opens his mouth slowly to speak. “Yes… _us_ , as in me and my wife. The other woman was _our_ girlfriend. We were in a polyamorous relationship with her before … well, before things got complicated.”

Jensen gawks, and he can’t help the word vomit that comes spilling out of his mouth. “Uh, a wife _and_ a girlfriend wasn’t complicated enough?’

Misha shoots him another warning-glare and it makes Jensen shrink against the booth. “We were all very happy. It was actually my wife’s best friend, but we all fell for each other at the same time. It was wonderful—we loved each other deeply; but the outside world, particularly—our girlfriend’s friends and family, weren’t as enthusiastic about it as we were. They began to give her a lot of grief—so much so, she finally had to end it. It was very difficult … we still miss her.”

Now Jensen feels awful, confused—but awful all the same. “Misha—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”

Misha holds up his hand and tries to look unfazed, but it’s a weak attempt at best. “It’s fine. I didn’t intend to bring it up. I know it can be hard for people to swallow. They hear ‘wife and girlfriend’ and their minds instantly go to a 1960’s swinger, or a crazy, religious subsect that wants to populate the earth with a billion of their children.”

“No … that’s not true” Jensen lies, because it totally is. As soon as Misha started explaining his unique past relationship, all Jensen could picture was the guy in some bell bottomed jeans, gearing up for a drug-fueled orgy.

The look he gets from those blue eyes prove that Misha isn’t buying his lie either. ”Really, Jensen. It’s fine. I don’t expect people to understand it—and honestly, they don’t need to. It was special to me and my wife, and that was all that mattered. I don’t feel like I need to explain it to people, so that’s why I don’t normally bring it up; especially, not at dinner with a new friend.”

Jensen sighs, feeling the guilt try to swallow him whole now. “I’m sorry. I just … I guess I’ve never really known someone who has had— _that_ kind of relationship before. I—I didn’t want to make you feel weird about it though. And you’re right, you don’t owe me an explanation at all. If it works for you two … or _three_ , and you’re all happy … or well, you _were_ , then that’s what’s important.” And Jensen isn’t lying with that last part, because that _is_ the truth. As long as everyone in that relationship was consenting and happy, then who is he to judge? Yeah—part of him still wants to gasp and ask _why_ and _how_ over and over; but living in Hollywood has shown him that his _narrowed-Texan_ view on life was pretty ignorant.

“Thanks” Misha smiles as he picks up his utensils once more. “Although, I suppose I need to get used to explaining everything—since Vicki is releasing a book about it.”

Jensen’s eyes immediately go wide. “What? Really?”

“Yep. She finished it at the end of last year. It’ll probably be released in the next month or so.”

“Wow” Jensen whispers, not sure how to react because he can’t gauge how Misha really feels about it.

“Yeah—I mean, I’m proud of her, and she’s always been the force in the relationship.” The other man pulls in his bottom lip between his teeth and wears on it a moment. “Whereas I was saddened by the response our _alternative_ relationship got, Vicki was _infuriated_. She wanted to change people’s perception of such things … so, she decided to write a book. And, let me tell you, Jensen—when she sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.”

Jensen nods, searching his thoughts for a safe response; but all he has are more questions. “So … you didn’t want her to write the book?”

Misha huffs a laugh and then looks around, as if he’s searching for a safe answer as well. “I can’t say that I didn’t want her to write it; but I was concerned about how much personal information she’d put into it. I don’t know, I suppose I just didn’t want more hurt stemming from the whole situation than there already was. It was rough on all of us, so I just wanted her to approach this book very carefully.”

“And, did she?” Jensen asks, finding himself completely enraptured by this whole conversation.

“I think she did.”

“But?”

“ _But_ … it won’t keep people from making assumptions or asking questions.”

And with that, Jensen can’t help but chuckle. “Dude—that’s what people do though! I mean, even when you give them _nothing_ to go off of, they still spin these elaborate theories. Like—you should hear some of the shit they think about me and Jared!”

Misha’s features lighten and that makes Jensen feel lighter too. “Like what?”

Jensen cuts into the brain on his plate without even thinking, and quickly plops a bite into his mouth. It’s bitter, and it makes him choke a bit.

“You okay there?” Misha jokes, scooting the glass of water closer so that Jensen can grab it and take a sip.

“Mhm” Jensen nods, but his mind is still racing on the last question asked. “I mean, some of our fans are _convinced_ Jared and I are secretly married. Others think that we just fuck like crazy between scenes. And there’s even some who think that we actually _hate_ each other and the network pays us extra just to pretend to be friends.”

“Isn’t that why you’re out with _me_ right now?”

Jensen was taking another sip, but is soon choking on his water, thinking somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll be dead by the end of this meal if Misha keep it up. He clears his throat and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, ya caught me! Although if I knew I’d be eating _organs_ tonight, I would’ve had them throw in a couple extra thousand.”

“In that case, _you_ can pay the check” Misha laughs, causing a gummy and happy grin to spread across his face.

“I was gonna do that anyway” Jensen chuckles, taking a moment to cut off some of the tripe and put it on his plate. He’s feeling braver now—more willing, and he likes that feeling a lot.

“No, no, no … _I_ chose this place. _I_ made the order. _I’m paying_ ” Misha drones, sounding much more serious because of it, but that only succeeds in making Jensen crack up again.

“Man, don’t even! _I’m_ the one who suggested we go out in the first place!”

“But _I’m_ the one who—”

Jensen holds up his hand and it quiets the other man instantly. “Dude— _really_ , I want to pay, okay? You’re the new guy and I want to make you feel welcome. We’re all really glad that you’re part of the show and … _I’m_ just glad that we’re becoming friends.”

“But …” Misha tries one more time, and Jensen shoots him his sternest _Dean-face._

“Misha … I mean it. If you want to pay for something, you can pay for my hospital bill after I eat this tripe, because I think I’ll need my stomach pumped.” Jensen then looks nervously at the yellow flubber on the prong of his fork, grimacing with the thought of it touching his tongue.

Misha grins. “Alright … _deal_.”

***

They had eaten nearly everything—except for the tripe. Neither he nor Misha were huge fans. After another hour of laughing and talking, they ended up ordering some cobbler for desert; and Jensen tried not to get too excited whenever their forks touched on the small surface of their shared plate.

All in all, it was a fun evening—and all those nerves that Jensen couldn’t shake the enite car ride over, were nothing but a distant memory now.

“I had a great time, Jensen. Thank you” Misha says, brushing their shoulders together as they walk back towards the parking lot.

“Me too. We should do it again … _soon_.”

“But, at a steakhouse next time, right?”

Jensen smirks, but then nods, taking a deep breath of all that chilled, night air. “Yeah—I can only take so much adventure with my meals. I need to surround it with comfort and normalcy in order to manage.”

Misha grins, eyes gleaming beneath the street lamps. “I can understand that.” After another few steps, the other man comes to a stop in front of an old, blue sedan. “Well, this is me.”

“Yeah, okay—I’m just a couple rows down” he says, gesturing lazily towards the back of the lot.

“Do you … want me to walk you there?”

Jensen holds back another laugh, because _really_ —it’s a sweet offer, but he’s not a sixteen year old girl. “Nah, man. I’m good.”

Misha sighs, cheeks pinking some in the soft light overhead, and Jensen thinks that he might’ve embarrassed himself with the question—so he pulls Misha into a hug to push away that feeling.

“I really did have a good time, Mish.”

Misha smiles again—Jensen can tell by the way the man’s cheek pushes against his neck, and how his chin digs into his shoulder. They hug each other tightly, for maybe a bit too long, because when they finally come apart, they’re _both_ blushing.

Jensen stares—absent mindedly licking his lips, still tasting the peach cobbler there, and he wonders if Misha’s lips taste the same.

His friend’s eyes catch the action, but then move back up to hold Jensen’s gaze. They linger, wondering, deep and fervently, and all Jensen can do is return the curiosity. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Misha finally whispers, because they’re standing so close to one another, that’s all he needs.

Jensen nods, tilting his head slightly to the side, trying to catch every angle of the man’s face before he goes. “Yeah. Bright and early.”

Misha grins. “Good … goodnight, Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Mish.”

***

Misha’s car had barely left the parking lot before Jensen had his phone in his hand. He knew it was late but he needed to call Danneel. He needed to talk to her, because the last few hours have left his nerves singing with energy, and she’s the only one who will understand him in this moment.

 

“So, how did it go?”

The phone had barely rung once before she answered it. “Good—I mean, _great!_ Misha is great! He did order us _brains_ for dinner, but other than that, he’s awesome!”

“Brains? Ew!”

“They weren’t that bad, actually.”

“You actually _ate_ them?”

“Yeah. And I ate the sheep glands and cow stomach too.”

“Oh my god—I’m never kissing you again!”

Jensen is cracking up, happy laughter bouncing off the parked cars at the side of the restaurant. “Aww, _too bad._ I really like kissing you.”

Danneel giggles, but then makes a curious sound that tickles Jensen’s ear when he hears it. “Only me? Or do you want to kiss Misha too?”

His cheeks heat up with that, and he looks back to the spot where Misha used to be parked—where both he and the other man stood, only inches apart. He could’ve so easily leaned forward and pressed their lips together, and it didn’t seem like Misha would’ve pulled away if he had. He can’t be certain, but by the way Misha kept their eyes locked on one another, he thinks—maybe, _just maybe_ … “Well …”

“Oh boy, you’re crushing even harder now, aren’t you?” his girlfriend clucks, cutting him off but her voice is filled with joy.

“Maybe.”

“He must be pretty special.”

“He is.”

“I need to meet this guy.”

“You can … the next time you’re here” Jensen says, feeling his stomach do a little flip with the thought.

“Okay, just as long as we don’t meet over cow brains or whatever.”

Jensen lets out one more laugh, finally deciding to make his way back to his car. “ _God, I love you_.”

“And I love you too … _all of you_. No matter what. You and me, babe … _always_.”

He stops in his tracks, wishing for all the world that Danneel was in his arms right now; and as he looks up at the starry sky, thinking of her warm smile—letting it warm him to the core, he wonders how on earth he ever got so lucky.

 

 


End file.
